


bodies against

by brawlite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Gangbang, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Rimming, Sloppy Seconds, all sorts of alien dicks, hux is into that xeno stuff apparently, oh and also orgasm denial for a bit, so is Kylo Ren, the dubious consent that goes along with alcohol use, the knights of ren are very into general hux, the non-canonical use of "lord ren" because i like it, there is a tentacle dick in this so just be aware, there is absolutely no redeeming value to this at all i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9343685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawlite
Summary: General Hux buys himself a present. He ends up sharing said present with the Knights of Ren, who shamelessly barge in on his personal leave time.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RangerDanger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RangerDanger/gifts).



_ Shore leave _ is a foreign concept to the First Order. 

At the end of the day (and at the beginning, and at all times in between) Hux is a stickler for rules and regulations. So, despite how much he could really use some time off, a short breath of fresh air, he’s not about to hightail it off the Finalizer and claim a small vacation for himself while the rest of his staff works. He’s just not that kind of commander. What’s fair is fair (in accordance with the First Order Regulation Manual, including all  appendices ), and even if it’s the path of most resistance and least personal sanity, he’s going to follow it. 

But -- when a situation offers itself up like this, with absolutely no other alternatives...well by the stars, Hux is going to take advantage of it. 

_ “And you’re positive that the repairs will not be completed in time?” _

_ “Yes, Sir.” _

_ “And there are no other transports available within the next two solar days?” _

_ “Exactly, Sir.” _

_ “Very well.” _

Hux sighs, relaying the orders to the rest of the ship. It’s a small crew -- not too many men needed for a largely diplomatic mission to the moons of Galidraan III to acquire support and choice supplies. They have a small squadron of stormtroopers, a few of Hux’s senior commanders, as well as (and unfortunately) the Knights of Ren. 

The Knights had come bearing their own mission straight from the Supreme Leader; confidential and undisclosed even to Hux himself. The moment the Knights had set foot on the Gamma moon, they had disappeared with Kylo Ren in the lead -- to Hux’s absolute delight. Having their looming specters hovering in the background during diplomatic missions, haunting and imposing, is never  _ helpful _ . Just having them in the same room, or even on the same small ship, is a hinderance. It’s a blessing that they had other plans.

Everything had progressed normally from there. The diplomatic meetings had gone off without a hitch. The First Order was promised the funding and the alliance they so desired, and Galidraan III and its moons were added, graciously, to the coalition of trusted friends of the First Order: an agreement that benefitted all parties. The supply-gathering mission, he was told, had also gone smoothly.

It was when they had come back to the ship that things had started to go south.

_ “A small malfunction, Sir -- we will have it up and running in no time,”  _ had quickly turned into a variety of panicked looks shared between technicians and endless exasperation and yelling on his staff engineers’ part. 

“Enough,” Hux had said, cutting through any of the bickering and excuses. “We will delay our return.” It isn’t too much of a setback -- they had already been offered accommodations by their gracious hosts. “One day. You have one day to fix this and have us in the air.” At least, with Kylo Ren in everyone’s minds regardless if he was currently at Hux’s side or not, the implied threat didn’t even need to be spoken. 

\--

Hux finds himself strolling the gardens the planet has to offer, lacking much else to do with his time. He finds that hovering, breathing down the necks of his staff, largely does not produce the wanted results -- so he must give them time alone. They understand the consequences of failure; Hux has every faith in them to fix the problem within the constraints of time. 

Unfortunately, their lack of needed motivation leaves Hux with no real prospects for his time. He could go over reports, but they are sensitive enough that he should be only accessing them via a secure network. And, of course, the only secure network is on board his ship: where he is attempting to not hover. So, after Hux has arranged rooms for the senior officers through their diplomatic connections, he finds himself at a loss. He can count on one hand the number of times in the last few years that he has been in a similar situation, so he doesn’t necessarily have a large store of  _ hobbies _ he can fall back on. 

Instead, he finds himself strolling. Aimless. The grand governmental sector, full of tall light-filled buildings, opens up to beautiful and expansive gardens, which in turn lead to the trading district. Hux takes a path suggested to him by a diplomat with whom he had been conversing: a marble walkway lined with many flowery bushes with barbed thorns. The plants look well taken care of -- each large plant trimmed to an impeccable standard. The hues are all cheery -- bright and sunny as well as iridescent. Each petal catches the light of the sun, reflecting it faintly in all directions. When Hux touches the petals, careful of the nearby thorns, they are smooth, velvety.

Eventually, Hux tires of inspecting the flora and continues on his way.

Pleasantly, the marketplace yields more of a distraction. The moon serves as a hub for most trade in the sector -- therefore, the market itself is packed with many different goods from a variety of different cultures, some that Hux is entirely unfamiliar with. He strolls through the bustling first area, packed predominantly full of all sorts of foods, admiring the collection of fruits with some envy. Military rations often leave something to be desired, fresh fruits and vegetables being the first thing to be left to the side. Growing up, Hux had had his fill of fruits that dripped from his lips and sat sweetly on his tongue -- now, the treat is scarce in his life.

So, he yields to his forced day off and buys himself a small selection of ripe fruits and continues on his way.

A bottle of blossom wine is next, along with a soft, rinded cheese that was promised to pair well with his wine. And, of course, a loaf of crusty bread to go along with.

If he’s going out, he’s going all out.

Hux pursues the markets for a bit longer, winding through the stall and shop-lined streets until the wisps of dusk begin stretching over the sky. He pays the phenomenon a moment of his attention, admiring the way that the green-tinged clouds gather the brilliant orange light of the setting sun. The colors are beautifully contrasting, highlighting the iridescent clouds like a painting -- like the soft petals he saw in the gardens. Dusk and dawn are not as familiar to him as they once were; now, they are a sought-after aesthetic treat.

It’s as he’s heading back toward the rooms that his eyes linger on a storefront. The building is quaint and small, but the store itself looks well kept up -- pristine and elegant. The small window displays offer only bolts of coiled, draping fabric as an enticement to what lies inside. Silk, satin, the softest of velvets. 

Hux isn’t sure why -- but he ventures inside.

He is greeted immediately by a well-dressed xeno whose species of origin he cannot place. A hybrid, perhaps -- though he does not linger unnecessarily on the thought. They greet him professionally and reverently, never once making eye contact, offering him refreshments and kind regards while gesturing with four elegant arms. While they are breezing through a melodious and likely informative greeting, Hux lets his eyes and attention wander. 

Inside, the store is small -- just as the outside had suggested. Their selection of goods, once Hux realizes exactly what they are selling, is by no means limited.

“Are you looking to have something tailored today, or are you more interested in our available inventory?” Hux is asked.

“Available inventory,” Hux hears himself say.

The walls are lined with delicate, carefully and expertly crafted garments. All styles, all shapes -- though clearly the main room is tailored toward more humanoid creatures -- like himself. Each piece is beautiful, a work of art in its own regard. 

Hux is led, not to garments themselves -- the  _ lingerie --  _ but to more bolts of fabric like the ones he had seen in the window.

“Please touch,” he is told, “To better help us determine where to begin.”

Hux decides on the silk -- the highest quality.

He -- isn’t entirely sure why he hasn’t walked out -- why he is still here, lingering in this shop, amongst garments he doesn’t need, amongst frivoloties he has no time for. These items are beautiful, but they are not for him. For people like him.

It’s not that he doesn’t have the money -- it’s more that he hasn’t treated himself to anything like this in years. Ever, perhaps.

Silk, it seems, is a popular choice.

The first piece the attendant chooses for him is a bright orange, similar to the color of his hair in the sunlight. It is a simple two-piece set: a bralette and panties, both trimmed in delicate lace. The fabric is smooth under his fingertips, but it doesn’t catch his interest like he feels it should. 

The next few sets are similar -- beautiful works of art, but not at all interesting to him. They are either too plain or too elegant, too frilly or too utilitarian. If Hux is being decadent, blowing money on lingerie he may never even  _ wear _ \-- he sure as kriff has to  _ fall in love _ with whatever item he is purchasing. Despite the many gorgeous pieces the shop offers, he suspects this effort, as spur of the moment as it was, to be futile.

The attendant hums -- or makes a noise vaguely similar to a hum, a trilling low in their throat -- and ushers Hux into a small alcove to the side. Everything in the alcove is leagues more ornate than the main room -- each piece interwoven with a variety of different fabrics, each more complicated and delicate than the next. They are breathtaking, enthralling. However, the prices here, Hux notices, are considerably more steep than the already costly items he had just been admiring. He is about to protest and make his escape from the store when a set catches his eye.

Noticing the object of his attention, the attendant brings the set closer, holding it up for Hux’s inspection.

It’s  _ perfect _ .

\--

The rooms are opulent, decked out in extravagant fabrics and trimmed in polished metals and stones. The couches and bed are perhaps some of the most comfortable furniture he has ever had the pleasure of sitting on. It’s not difficult for Hux to convince himself to take advantage of the situation -- to relax and enjoy.

He might as well, anyway -- no use in wasting the opportunity.

Besides, he has until morning until anyone needs him. Everyone is either working on repairs or sleeping themselves; he would just be delaying much needed work if he were to hover now. 

Hux has no choice but to find pleasure in his own company.

So, like a ritual, he begins the process of preparing for his night.

He divests himself of his uniform, carefully folding it and placing it in a nearby closet to protect it from any dust or pollen.

He bathes, using the luxurious oils and soaps provided for him, until his hair and body smell pleasantly of flowers and perfumes he is unfamiliar with, but enjoys. He takes his time, delicately smoothing a delightfully thick lotion over his skin. It leaves his whole body feeling smooth and sleek, renewed and refreshed. When he finishes, he wraps himself in a soft robe, provided for him by the accommodations.

The cheese, fruits, and bread are all placed out on the table in front of the velveteen couch. Hux rearranges the many comfortable looking pillows, giving himself a place to sit amongst them when he feels ready. 

Reverently, he removes the robe and sets out the lingerie on the bed. Nude, he admires his purchase. The set is made of the softest silk available in the store, slick and smooth beneath his fingertips. The color, upon first glance, is a silver grey -- but upon closer inspection, it shines iridescent green in the pale light of the room. ‘ _ A lovely combination with your hair, Sir,’ _ the attendant had told him -- and Hux could not help but agree. Delicate black lace lines the edges of the garments, silk bows and ties accentuating different parts. 

First, Hux slowly slides on the panties, letting the smooth fabric slide up his pale legs.

Then, he fastens the thin bralette behind his back. It was designed for someone like him -- flat chested. The fabric is purely ornamental: designed to be decadent to look at and pleasurable against his skin, nothing more.

After a brief pause, he decides to complete the outfit by sliding on the accompanying garter belt and garters, attaching small clips to black stockings that he carefully rolls up his legs.

When he finishes and hazards a glance in the mirror, he cannot feel anything but pride. Looking at himself is very near a religious experience: he is gorgeous and divine. A complete work of art, even in stocking feet. For a moment, he laments the fact that no one else will see him like this, no one else will appreciate just how much effort he has put into his appearance. It is truly a pity. 

The seafoam grey silk looks decadent against his skin: smooth and creamy, inviting to the touch. His freckles stand out beautifully thanks to the gentle contrast of the garment, peppering his shoulders, his neck, his collarbones. The black lace cuts delicate slashes across his skin, leaving him in inviting sections for appraisal. He looks  _ expensive _ \-- as he damn well better, after the amount he spent on lingerie. 

The couch is comfortable, pillows cushioning him in all the right places, as he lounges on it with a glass of wine. The table is close enough for him to easily grab small pieces of fruit, cheese and bread to sate his peckish hunger. Easily, he falls into his evening of relaxation. The wine begins to flush his skin, warming the blood in his veins. Soon, Hux finds himself pleasantly flushed, licking sweet fruit nectar from his fingertips.

When he shifts, the silken fabric of the lingerie brushes against his nipples, his cock. He is surprised to find himself half hard, beginning to strain against the fabric of the panties. He hesitates for a moment before stroking his fingers over the growing bulge, remembering he has no reason not to indulge, no reason not to give in to the basest of his desires. 

Glass of wine still in hand, Hux watches himself squirm on the couch with a sense of fascination. His body, long and lean, looks truly delicious as he shifts on the plush pillows of the couch. He is a work of art, just like the lingerie. The silk shifts on his skin, accentuating everything in just the right way. His nipples: pert. His cock: a solid outline under decadent silk. His body: curved and accentuated in all of the right places. Soft and silky to the touch -- expensive. 

Hux makes it through two glasses of the sweet wine before he is feeling well and truly relaxed.

He should do this more often, he thinks, loosely and pleasantly, as he fingers another ripe fruit between his lips. The juice drips down his lips, his chin, his throat. He catches himself running his fingers through the thick nectar, catches himself bringing his wet fingertips to his lips to lick and suckle like his hand is not his own. The inane fantasy is nice enough to lose himself in for a moment or two, anyway.

It’s at that moment that the door to his suite opens.

Hux is expecting, at worst, a senior diplomat needing a private word. At best, a member of the establishment’s staff.

He is not expecting the Knights of Ren. 

All of them.

The whole company.

Kylo Ren leads the party of seven, striding into the room as if he owns the place, without a care otherwise or a knock to proceed his arrival -- as usual. It’s not as if Hux expects any better of him. The knights follow behind him, drawn into his orbit, as if compelled by gravity. Or by sheer force of will -- more likely.

The knights very nearly run straight into Kylo Ren when he grinds to an immediate halt a few long paces in from the door. Even with his helmet, it is impossible to mistake that Kylo is staring straight at Hux, clearly not prepared for the sight that he has found. Hux cannot help but be surprised: he too, wasn’t planning on spending the evening lounging around in expensive lingerie, drinking wine and eating delicacies off of polished platters. 

But Hux will not allow Kylo to see him as anything less than composed. Even if he is nude. Even if his cock is still glaringly hard and still straining against very thin, very pricey silk.

“May I help you?” Hux asks.

Kylo makes a noise through his vocoder. Hux cannot tell if it is a growl or a breath. Or, perhaps Kylo is dying and this is the first symptom: vague and incomprehensible noises. 

One of the knights shifts behind Kylo. For a moment, they all appear to be branching shadows of their leader, each from a different light source, cast out in varying directions and intensities. It’s enough to make Kylo Ren look more fierce than he is, more monstrous. 

Hux clears his throat. He thinks that he can hear Kylo swallow. Hux tries to hold back a smirk and does a decent job of it. Not that it matters; he doubts that anyone is paying much attention to his face.

“The departure has been delayed.” Kylo’s voice is tense behind the mask. Hux tries not to let the satisfaction of knocking Kylo Ren for a loop show on his face. Not that it matters -- it probably radiates through the entire room, palpable to each of the knights.

“Oh, you noticed that, did you?”

A growl emanates from the vocoder, low and annoyed. A thrill of pleasure runs down Hux’s spine -- how exciting. He always enjoys frustrating Kylo Ren -- but now it appears as if he can frustrate the man in ways other than being needlessly bureaucratic. Kylo hates paperwork and waiting -- and now Hux has learned that he hates being caught off guard, surprised. 

He wonders just how disgruntled he can get the other man -- or the knights, for that matter -- before they turn to leave him to his short holiday.

So, inhibitions tempered by the alcohol, Hux decides to make a play.

He moves slowly, languidly, truly letting himself relish just how comfortable he is at the current moment. He gently sets his glass of wine down on the table and helps himself to a fruit, a juicy berry, which he slowly bites in half. The juice, sweet and viscous, drips down his chin. He catches most of it with his tongue, and the rest with the tip of his finger. 

“Was there anything else you needed?” Hux asks, tone both annoyed and bored at once, turning once again to face Kylo Ren. He lets his hand, purposefully soft and gentle, wander down his own side to rest at his hip, fingers splayed against pale skin and mist-colored silk. “Or -- wanted, perhaps?” Hux adds, just to imagine the blush under that ridiculous helmet.

The knight to Kylo’s immediate left takes one halting step forward. Kylo bristles. The air in the room crackles with electricity.

“Because, if you hadn’t noticed,” Hux trails his fingertips over the silk of his panties, tracing careful patterns, as he speaks, “I’m in the middle of something.” They’ve already seen him like this; there is little harm in drawing their attentions to it now. Hux makes certain to not brush against his cock, but he comes damn near close to it. From the intakes of breaths he hears from the knights, that movement did not escape their notice.

Kylo Ren takes one long step forward. His knights follow him.

“It’s rude to interrupt.” Hux chides. He cannot deny that he is having  _ fun _ playing with them, watching them twitch and react like insects trapped in his web. 

It’s not that they are all necessarily stoic and silent -- but they are certainly mysterious and aloof. They are all unknowns -- except for Kylo Ren. Hux knows enough about the man to know that he is brash, unbridled, impulsive. He also knows what his pretty face looks like under that helmet of his, having seen it a handful of times. Hux remembers it well enough to appreciate imagining it flushing at the sight of him now, milky skin adorned in expensive lingerie, draped on a couch like an invitation.

Not that it  _ is _ an invitation.

\-- It could be, though.

Hux does a quick mental re-calculation. His is still warm and flushed and the contentment in his veins has gone nowhere, still sitting agreeably beneath his skin. The pleasant fullness from the fruit and cheese has left him satiated in one way, but not in others. He had been getting to that as an integral part of his holiday relaxation -- but there is no reason he necessarily must be alone for that.

“It’s rude to interrupt,” Hux repeats. “Unless you are planning on keeping me company.” The words are addressed to Kylo Ren as well as his knights. Hux’s voice suggests nothing, other than the hint of annoyance at a schedule’s progress stymied. 

If they choose to join, perfect; if they choose to take their leave, it’s no detriment to Hux’s plans.

“General,” Kylo Ren finally speaks. His voice sounds rougher than usual. Deeper. Hux knows that he has won.

“Yes, Lord Ren?”

Despite having found his voice only a moment before, Kylo seems to be at a loss for words again. The knight to Kylo’s right steps forward. Hux has always liked this one -- with the crosshatched mask and the ability to listen to directions. They have always been decently mannered, as well as being useful and corralling Kylo when needed. “We would be honored to join you at this time, General, if you would so have us.” Their voice is more melodic than Ren’s and far more pleasing to the ears. Hux can tell instantly that they are not human. They don’t give a name and Hux doesn’t ask.

The knight beside this one agrees with a nod. Hux supposes that they say something, but he can only hear static ringing in his ears. It’s fine -- Hux isn’t wanting much conversation out of tonight anyway, even with his changed plans.

Hux pours himself more wine and takes a hearty sip. He feels like he’ll need it. He doesn’t move from his spot on the couch -- the knights can come to him; they will have to.

“Kylo?” Hux says, when Kylo doesn’t move. This is perhaps a terrible idea. Hux is on holiday and likely drunk. His decision making abilities, as well as his situation-reading skills are hardly at their best. “At least take off your mask,” he suggests. He does not ask this of the other knights -- he knows, instinctively, that it would be rude. 

Kylo says nothing, but steps forward and removes the mask. He places it on the table, near Hux’s selection of foods. It’s immediately apparent why Kylo hasn’t spoken, yet; his face is flushed blood-red and his pupils are dilated so far that his eyes seem black. Hux cannot hide his amusement that Kylo is so turned on that he is currently incapable of speech. His lips are wet and red -- clearly he has been biting and licking them in turn.

“Come here,” Hux beckons to him, his voice softer than it should be. Pity and arousal well inside him when he looks at the poor creature that is Kylo Ren.

Kylo crosses to Hux, kneeling down on the floor beside the couch. Reverent. It’s absurd how everything he does is like a ceremony, so full of feeling and emotion. Hux would be repulsed and annoyed -- if Kylo’s attentions weren’t currently on him. Those brown eyes rove Hux’s body, hungry and appreciative. Hux lets him look, but puts a hand in Kylo’s hair for a point of contact, letting his fingers sift through those strangely soft dark locks.

“Do you like what you see,” Hux asks.

Kylo’s swallow is audible. He doesn’t stop looking at Hux’s body, at the lingerie. “Very much.”

“Then perhaps you will enjoy seeing more of it,” Hux suggests.

He fists his hand, gently, in Kylo’s hair to keep him still. Hux knows exactly what he wants, and he wants to save Kylo for last. 

“You,” he says to the knight with the melodic voice who spoke first. They are all hovering close by, like a pack, a swarm. One single entity with many brains, many thoughts. Hux doesn’t know exactly how they work, just how attached they are -- and while he doesn’t care to find out, he still intends on profiting off the fact that they all seem interested. “Come here.”

The table moves out of the way --  _ the Force _ , Hux scoffs mentally -- when the knight steps forward. They are confident. The others follow suit, but this one leads as Hux has directed. 

With his hand still in Kylo’s hair and his drink safely off to the side, Hux stretches out on the couch -- inviting. “You may touch,” he suggests. 

The knight is wearing gloves, but it does not matter. The leather is soft and hot on the skin of Hux’s thigh, where the knight lays their hand. They must run warmer than humans typically do. Their touch is careful, but not hesitant, as they stroke first down to Hux’s knee, then up to his hip. Electricity flows through the points of contact -- or, more likely, the Force.

They pay reverence to Hux’s smooth skin, touching him like a ceremony. Eventually their focus shifts to the lingerie -- first, to the bralette, then the garter belt. They run their fingers over the smooth silk, as if they could feel it through their gloves. It matters not --  _ Hux _ can feel it, and he cannot help but squirm. The touch of slippery silk over his nipples is so much, enough to have him gasp into the quiet of the room. His soft noises are soon accompanied by the loud breathing of Kylo next to him, who is watching with rapt attention.

Eventually the knight tires of teasing, and moves their fingers to Hux’s hard length. By now he is fully engorged, nearly painfully so. Through the silk, the knight’s touch is good -- but not  _ enough _ . “More,” Hux says, and it’s an order. Thankfully, the knight doesn’t delay. They work Hux’s cock out of the panties and wraps strong fingers around the length. Hux’s hips buck against the needed relief and Kylo nearly chokes to the side of him, squirming under Hux’s hand. Just seeing Kylo like this is enough to make Hux’s blood run hotter. 

_ Hux _ is in control.  _ Hux _ is the center of attention.  _ Hux _ has the knights at his beck and call, willing to bend to his every whim. It’s all very enthralling.  

It’s distracting enough that Hux barely notices just how thorough the knight is being. Each movement of their hand is  _ perfect _ , each stroke ending in a small twist of their hand that has Hux groaning in delight. It’s so good -- but it’s also too much, too fast. If they keep up at this rate, Hux is going to lose it within minutes. The idea is both appealing and not -- this is his holiday and he doesn’t want to waste it, wants everything to be just so.

Each touch is planned perfection. Just the right amount of speed and grip and strength. It’s blatantly unfair that the knight is working Hux over like this, who is writhing on the couch after not long in a terribly undignified away, begging for mercy.

Just when Hux feels himself get close, when he can hear himself panting, fingers twisting in Kylo’s hair -- the knight lets go of Hux’s cock, pressing their hot palm to Hux’s stomach.

“ _ Kriff _ ,” Hux groans, hips bucking off the couch of their own accord. “You  _ bastard. _ ” 

Hints of pleasure prick all over his body like goosebumps, like droplets of rain on hot skin -- but it is not enough. All he can feel now is frustration and the inklings of disappointment. 

“You will get your release, General,” the knight says, startling Hux with their melodic voice. “We give you our word.” The knights around them, all suddenly closer than before, agree with a hum of noise. A bit of control slips away from Hux -- he can practically feel it being pulled through his fingertips. 

_ Allow us to take care of you _ , Hux hears in his head. He’s not sure which knight the words came from, but suddenly there are at least three sets of gloved hands on him, all of the knights crowding near enough to touch. Despite the slipping control, Hux allows himself to be maneuvered around. He loses his grip on Kylo’s hair, but finds himself in an equally agreeable position: bent over the couch so his ass is in the air, many soft pillows supporting him. Kylo Ren sits beside him, warm palm settling between Hux’s shoulder blades.

“Take off your gloves,” Hux begs of him. He cannot ask it of the other knights, but he can ask it of Kylo, who obliges without the usual whining. Tonight, Hux figures, is special. 

Distracted by the feeling of Ren’s skin smoothing over his own, Hux nearly startles from the touch of two hands on his ass. Behind him, one of the knights has grabbed the globes of Hux’s ass and is kneading their fingers deep into the muscle. It feels  _ fantastic _ . Hux cannot stop the groan that ensues, cannot stop the way his back arches or the way he presses into the touch. He supposes he doesn’t have to fear, doesn’t have to save his dignity here. After all, they are all here for the same thing: the pursuit of an enjoyable evening. 

The one knight’s hands are then joined with others, all touching Hux in one way or another. One of the knights goes for his hair, smoothing fingers gently through it. Another brushes their fingers softly over the silk of the lingerie. Eventually, the panties are pulled down his ass just enough that he feels exposed -- but they are still there, still to be admired. Hux appreciates that.

Kylo’s hand on his back is a solid point of contact, anchoring Hux when the reality of the situation suddenly hits him. “You look exquisite like this,” Kylo says, all reverence and solemnity. Hux cannot help but laugh -- he is always so serious, even now. However, the laugh quickly turns into a gasped intake of breath when Hux feels the press of a fingertip against his hole, slicked by god knows what -- maybe spit, maybe one of the many decadent oils stocked by the room. It takes him a moment to realize that the fingertip is still gloved -- and that, in and of itself, is enough to make him groan. It’s arousing, for whatever reason -- perhaps the idea that Hux doesn’t yet deserve to get skin-to-skin contact from them is what does it for him.

The knight slowly presses the finger inside him. Hux is tight, tighter than he realized -- he doesn’t get to partake in such activities as often as he’d like, honestly. But the knight seems undeterred, happy to slowly work Hux open with the slow slide of their fingers against sensitive muscle. They are patient and skilled and within moments Hux can feel his cock dripping. 

The need to come is again, strong -- but he knows it is also not an immediate possibility. 

Before Hux can say  _ please _ , the knight removes their fingers and gives Hux a moment of reprieve. There are still hands on him, sliding over his skin and his lingerie and his hair -- but the touch fades into the background. The only thing Hux does focus on is the feeling of Kylo’s fingers between his shoulder blades.

Once he has a moment to breathe, the knight continues, sliding two slick fingers inside Hux, then three. Hux tries to focus his attention on Kylo, on the hand on his back, but it is difficult. The knight is pulling embarrassing sounds from Hux’s throat, making him sweat and pant and plead. Stretched and open, it’s hard to want anything more than just this, right now. Finally, the knight relents relents. They withdraw their fingers and steady themselves with a hand on Hux’s tailbone. 

Just as Hux is about to lament the loss, the empty feeling within him, he feels the undeniable press of something warm and slick against his entrance. He knows just what that is, and even though he is prepared, he cannot stop the rush of excitement that swells inside him. He is ready. He wants it. Suddenly, the idea of each knight filling him up in turn is dizzying. Heady.

“Kriff,” Hux groans, attempting to push back against the intrusion. He doesn’t want to wait, doesn’t want this slow torture. “You’re supposed to be doing what I tell you,” Hux complains, when he is steadied by strong hands. The knight continues their slow push in, not giving Hux what he wants nearly fast enough. 

Hux thinks he hears the knight chuckle in their beautiful voice, “Patience, General. You will have no complaints.”

And soon, he does not. 

With the knight’s thick, hot length buried to the hilt, Hux feels complete. He feels full and perfect -- just as promised. When the knight begins to move, however, it becomes apparent that he could feel  _ even better _ . 

“Kriff,” Hux groans, needily pushing back against the cock inside him. This time, the movement is allowed. He needs it harder, faster -- just so much more.

“Pace yourself, General,” Hux hears from his side. He doesn’t have to look to know that is Kylo speaking, Kylo threading a hand through hair, tracing the line of his jawbone.  _ You have only just begun _ , he hears in his head. The words send a shiver down his spine, so Hux buries his face in Kylo’s shoulder. The contact is nice, and so is the surprised intake of breath he hears from Kylo Ren. It’s so easy to pull noises out of the other man, even from something as simple as a touch.

The knight behind him, inside him, is very thorough. They are dedicated to his cause -- well-paced and steady, while very accurately making sure they milk every ounce of pleasure possible from Hux. This knight -- this knight is Hux’s favorite. When Hux hazards a look behind him, he is dumbstruck by the image of it: the tall knight towering over him, thrusting deep into Hux’s ass. All of the other knights are close by, watching with intrigue. The grating of the knight’s helmet gives away nothing, but Hux has the distinct impression that they are enjoying themself. 

All Hux can do is sit back and enjoy.

The knight fucks him for a long while, giving Hux everything he needs. Then, they draws a possessive hand down Hux’s spine and spills themselves inside. Hux groans while the knight fucks themselves through the orgasm. When they pull out, Hux can feel the warm release dripping down his thighs.

But it’s not enough. Hux is still hard, still needy. “More,” he asks for, knowing that it is waiting in the lines. It’s also an order, and the Knights of Ren do occasionally obey his orders, especially when they feel inclined to do so.

The second knight that steps up is one he is not entirely acquainted with. They are large, bulky and broad shouldered. Their size is intimidating -- or would be if Hux wasn’t both aroused and inebriated. They say nothing, but they spent minutes simply acquainting themselves with Hux’s body, with his newly acquired lingerie. 

There are no audible words to go along with the attentions, but Hux manages to hear them anyway, placed into his skin through the gentle, mapping touch with gloved hands.

_ beautiful, powerful, delicate, breakable, vicious, ours _

The words settle in at the base of his stomach, churning there along with his arousal. 

It is a relief when the knight finally pushes into Hux with his thick cock, stretching Hux a bit wider than his previous partner. Their length feels normal, the slide of it anyway, and Hux finds himself settling into the rhythm. He is still slick with the previous knight’s release, still loose and stretched out -- so there is little standing in the way of a proper fucking. 

However, this knight is more careful, more reverent than the first. While they fuck Hux, they continue touching him -- endless, affectionate. Caring. 

It is not the kind of treatment that Hux often receives, nor the sort of treatment he was expecting to get this evening -- but he finds himself enjoying it regardless.

There is something exciting about feeling praised, about feeling appreciated, and this knight knows just how to touch Hux to make him feel as if he is a Corellian statue -- priceless and magnificent and also breakable.

The knight’s steady rhythm shifts slowly, as if seeking out what will bring out the most noise from Hux. 

Hux groans when the knight’s length brushes deliciously against that bundle of nerves inside him, finally feeling a bit of relief from the press of need inside him. However, the knight does not simply continue to graze against that spot inside -- the tip of his dick seems to  _ circle _ that spot, pressing against it with the accuracy of a fingertip.

Hux gasps -- then he groans. 

He shifts so that he can press his forehead into Kylo’s shoulder, so he can clutch at Kylo’s robes pathetically as the knight thoroughly ruins him.

Hux moans wetly against Kylo’s robes, jerking both forward and back on the other knight’s length -- both seeking the feeling and attempting to flee it, all at once. It’s  _ so much _ . It feels too good, setting all of his nerves alight, all at the same time. Heavy, sturdy hands settle on his hips to stabilize him. Hux cannot help but groan -- he is so hard that it is almost painful, but the touch of the other man’s cock against his prostate is doing little to inch him closer to orgasm -- it is simply tearing him apart, instead.

It goes on for long moments. Just when Hux thinks that he cannot take anymore, the knight relents. They do not continue thrusting into Hux, they simply press in deeper, gripping Hux’s hips with bruising strength. And then, they come. Hux can feel it pulsate inside him, moreso than he ever has before. Hux moans as he feels it fill him, pressing his forehead to Kylo’s shoulder, holding on to him for dear life.

They do not all fuck him.

Some of the knights, Hux gathers, do not have the requisite parts to make penetration happen. That’s fine. He doesn’t think he can actually live through  _ all _ of the knights taking him apart at the seams. 

When the second knight pulls away, the third is immediately there, catching the dripping release with deft fingers. Instead of wiping the disgusting mix of spunk away, they gather it with a crooked finger and push it back into Hux. They take their time, leaving him shivering and shaking as they finger him steadily. He is loose and open, and the come slides easily back inside him, leaving him slick and ready for the next knight.

The fourth knight’s cock is shorter and immensely thick. The act of taking them leaves Hux groaning with need. The stretch of the pain is just what he needs to fall into an aroused stupor, where everything feels so good, but just a bit far away. The knight seems to delight in adding a bit of an edge of pain to the encounter, but only after they realize just how loud Hux moans for that, specifically.

It ends with Kylo running his fingers through Hux’s hair, Hux having little memory of the fourth knight, other than the fluid dripping down his thighs and onto the couch. He feels like a mess -- but with all of the knights running affectionate hands over him, with  _ beautiful, beautiful _ ringing in his ears, it’s hard to feel like anything less than a prize. 

Hux isn’t sure why they’re doing this, why they are devoting their evening to pleasuring Hux in this way -- but he is not arguing. He doesn’t think he can, at this point. 

The fifth knight pleasures him with their tongue. Kylo holds Hux’s head steady so that he cannot look back and catch a glimpse of the knight’s face. Perhaps Hux should feel slighted, annoyed, or frustrated -- but he cannot be anything but grateful. 

Their attentions are slow and graceful -- just what Hux’s poor, stretched hole needed. The gentle, slick press of their tongue feels like salvation, like a cool shower at the end of a long day. Their saliva is strangely cooling, even a little numbing, and instead of working Hux up into another fuss, he feels more relaxed than before. 

When they are done with him, he is ready for the next knight.

“You will be fine,” Kylo says in Hux’s ear, carding careful fingers through Hux’s sweat-damp hair. “Relax and you will be fine,” he says. Hux makes a curious noise, wanting to tell Kylo that his words are anything but reassuring. He hadn’t been anxious before -- but he certainly is now, at least a bit, after Kylo’s ominous words. Does he need a reason to relax? After being fucked rather thoroughly with three separate cocks?

It all becomes immediately apparent when the sixth, and last, knight steps up behind him. He hears them undo their trousers, hears them pull out their length. They do not immediately press inside, but instead they rest their length on the pale skin of Hux’s ass. He immediately startles. Not only are they rather large and thick -- but the weight that rests on him is immediately foreign and slick with it’s own fluids -- and also moving. The length twists like a tentacle, sliding prehensile over his skin. Some of the fluid drips down his legs, getting caught in the silk fabric of the panties that still rest around his thighs.

“Stars,” Hux breathes. He truly was not prepared for this. 

There is nothing close to humanoid about the cock resting on him -- if one could even call it a cock.

“You can,” Kylo reassures him, before Hux realizes he had been thinking, rather loudly,  _ i can’t i can’t i can’t.  _ “You can,” he reassures Hux. “Relax.” Kylo nearly pulls Hux into his lap while the last knight presses the tip of his length up against Hux’s dripping hole.

Hux is still hard, despite his fear, his anxiety -- he cannot deny the appeal of the deplorable. He cannot deny the heat he feels at the thought of being so defiled.

“I’ve never --” Hux murmurs. He’s only slept with humanoid creatures before -- nothing so  _ xeno _ , nothing so depraved. He feels like someone should know, even if it’s only Kylo.

The knight presses the tip of themselves inside Hux. The feeling is so foreign that Hux cannot begin to compare it to being penetrated by a cock. Their length is less firm, perhaps a bit softer -- though Hux wouldn’t say that out loud. He’s not sure if that would be an insult or not. It is certainly solid enough to press inside him, but still pliable -- teasing at the rim of his entrance first, then wriggling a bit when it pushes inside.

Hux cannot help but lurch forward slightly, gasping at the strange intrusion. 

The knight does not let him go anywhere. Neither does Kylo. 

Hux hears words whispered in his ear, dusted hot across his skin by many hands, but he cannot discern any of them. He remembers no language, no meaning. All he can focus on is the slide of the last knight’s length inside him, stretching him and filling him in a way he has never experienced before. Each inch is unimaginable, unforgettable. Hux feels his cock dripping onto the pillows below him, painfully hard.

When the knight is seated all the way, length squirming inside Hux, secreting enough slick liquid that it drips out of him, Hux can finally breathe.

It is so much, almost too much -- but he can finally accept that this is  _ good _ . It’s different than anything he’s ever had before, and so very good. 

He feels so full, so used, so thoroughly taken care of.

The knight begins to fuck him. 

Kylo cards his fingers through Hux’s hair. 

The other knights touch Hux everywhere -- skin, silk, lace. 

The slide of the knight’s length is delightful, slick and shameless and wet. With all the fluid, each thrust is loud in the quiet of the room, and each noise pulls a groan from Hux’s throat. The knight himself is gentle, affectionate. They repeat movements that make Hux shudder, try purposefully to hit Hux’s prostate on every thrust. When Hux’s breathing goes ragged after a few minutes, they slow down, coaxing and praising Hux with trilled words he does not understand. 

He has never before, in the hands of this knight and all the others, felt so treasured. He is nearly boneless with it, with pleasure and lust and affection. He is still hard, yes, but the idea of orgasm is no longer at the forefront of his thoughts. Now, his own pleasure is a steady stream that he can fade into with eyes closed, muscles relaxed.

At some point, the last knight finishes. Hux cannot tell, afterward, if they spent their release inside Hux -- or even had a release at all. All Hux knows is that he is still slick and wet and full of so much come. He feels used and open, but in such a delightful way. He is so relaxed, barely aware when one of the knights slides his panties back up onto his hips, covering his hard cock once more. 

Hux makes a plaintive noise -- they are now  _ ruined _ , he can feel it. The silk is instantly wet with a variety of fluids -- made worse by the myriad of fingers running over the now-wet fabric. The knights trail fingers over him, on his skin but specifically over the silk of the panties -- soothing, but also appreciative.

At some point, Kylo gathers Hux into his arms, his lap. Hux makes another noise of protest -- he will ruin Kylo’s robes. The silk does nothing to prevent any filth getting on Kylo, not to mention any of Hux’s sweat. It’s an easy thing to focus on, when his head is spinning this much.

“Shut up, Hux,” Kylo says, and presses a glass of water to his lips. “Drink.”

And so Hux does.

He finishes nearly the whole glass, the cool liquid tasting like the sweetest of nectars as it coats his tongue and slides down his throat. One of the knights -- the first one, Hux notices -- presses a fruit to his lips with gloved hands. Hux eats. They all feed him small bits of food, just enough to let the dizziness pass and bring his awareness up. He is offered more water and is petted by fond hands. 

Soon, he feels more like himself.

With that realization of awareness, Hux can no longer ignore the aching hardness between his legs. But before he can voice his opinion on that, Kylo is already shushing him with a cautious breath.

“Let me,” Kylo says. “Let me take care of you.” As he speaks, he presses his lips to Hux’s neck, to his jawline, to his cheek. Finally, he gives Hux some relief, catching him in a warm and ardent kiss. Kylo is far less tentative than Hux had ever imagined -- though he is also just as passionate as Hux would have guessed. Kylo is a creature built on desire and emotion, and there is no time his build is more apparent than now.

So, when Hux realizes how hard he is and Kylo offers to take care of him, he eagerly moves to slide off Kylo’s lap. To bend himself over the couch so that Kylo can take him like the other knights had done.

“No,” Kylo says, stopping him with a hand to Hux’s wrist, bare fingers wrapping around pale skin. “Please. Like this,” Kylo suggests, though it sounds far more like an order than it should. Hux thought he was the one in control of this situation, the one allowing the knights to pleasure him -- now, he’s not so sure. Not that it matters -- not right now, anyway. He can brood about it later, alone, if he so chooses.

Kylo moves to have Hux straddle him right there on the couch. Kylo shuffles through his robes, pulling them aside and freeing his hard cock through the many layers of fabric. It is long and hard, thicker than Hux imagined. The head is pleasantly slick with precome, the length of it red, likely from being engorged for so long. 

Suddenly, Hux  _ aches _ to have it inside him.

He feels consumed with it, dizzy with desire. He feels as if he might die, right this very second, if Kylo does not fuck him immediately.

Kylo laughs and the sound is beautiful and frustrating all at once. “You think so loudly, Hux.” Kylo says, pulling him closer, large hands around Hux’s waist. 

Hux has never particularly felt  _ small _ \-- but under Kylo’s large fingers, huge palms, he does. Straddling Kylo’s monstrous thighs, he feels all too kriffing delicate. 

Kylo all but pulls Hux’s panties to the side, allowing himself free access of Hux’s loose hole, ruining them even further. Hux nearly protests, nearly quotes the price of the garment to Kylo -- but his world goes sideways and his words vanish the second Kylo pushes his cock inside. The slide of it is easy and warm, and it reminds Hux of how wet he is, how filthy. 

He nearly chokes on his desire when Kylo is seated all the way inside. There’s something about this that is more intimate, Hux thinks, more overwhelming than all of the other knights fucking him. He can’t quite put his finger on what, not with the way that Kylo’s bare hands are roving over his skin, feeling every inch of Hux, tracing every ridge and every curve. Hux can’t think, so instead he catches Kylo’s mouth in a kiss, moaning into it when he starts to move.

The other knights had fucked him, pure and simple. Now, he is free to ride Kylo’s cock and have Kylo thrust up into him, meeting him at every turn. It is not necessarily an even give-and-take of power, but it is far more of a coordinated effort -- and with that, it is far more overwhelming.

Hux finds himself panting faster and moaning louder than before. 

The pleasure of it is breathtaking. As is Kylo.

The man’s eyes are dark, heavy lidded and full of desire. His long hair is damp with sweat, haloing his face in beautiful darkness. He is an image to behold, beautiful and powerful -- and all of his attention is focused solely on Hux. In fact, all of the other knight’s attentions are  _ also _ focused on Hux, now that he notes it. The party circles the two of them, all of them reaching out to touch Hux, to lay affectionate hands on him as he rides Kylo’s cock. It should be overwhelmingly strange, even off-putting, but Hux only finds it thrilling, enlivening. Each touch sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine, each encouraging noise they make has Hux riding Kylo harder, faster. It stretches on like this for long enough that Hux loses track of time, only accounting for pleasure, for need.

Kylo’s fingertips dig into Hux’s waist after a time, hard enough to bruise. “Hux,” he warns. He doesn’t need to say anything more -- Hux knows. He has been close for ages, too. He was close even when Kylo first pushed inside him. 

Kylo’s hand slides down and warm fingers wrap around Hux’s dick. He barely needs the touch, honestly. Within a moment, Hux is coming all over Kylo’s fingers. He moans and shakes himself through it, clawing at Kylo’s back, through his robes. The waves of pleasure are almost unimaginable, so strong they nearly knock him sideways. For a moment, it feels a bit like a feedback loop before he realizes that Kylo is coming, too, gasping wetly against Hux’s neck.

Kylo catches him in a kiss, first passionate and then promptly and easily turning towards lazy. Fond. The pleasure fades into background noise, though Kylo keeps kissing him and the knights keep caressing his skin. 

\--

Two weeks later, Hux finds himself reviewing weekly status reports, as per his usual schedule. His short holiday on the moons of Galidraan III has been nearly forgotten, though a considerable weight had been lifted off his shoulders with it. He still feels the lightness of it, especially when dredging through the tedious everyday tasks that can sometimes weigh him down.

Or rather, he has mostly forgotten his holiday, except for in his sleep. In his dreams, Hux relives every moment of it. He lets the pleasure of it fill him, help him carry on through the endless days. His stresses are still there, but they are certainly not at the forefront of his thoughts, at least for now. For now, his short trip buoys him along through a period of monotony -- and for that, he is glad. 

Even still, he does not think of it outside his quarters, especially not when he encounters Kylo or one of his knights in the corridors of the Finalizer. He cannot. He cannot flinch, cannot flush. He simply walks past them without so much as a nod, unless he is needed, and then he is nothing more than cordial. For all its worth, the Knights of Ren do not act differently toward Hux either -- neither taking notice of him nor initiating contact in any way. It would be frustrating or even insulting, if it weren’t so convenient. Hux honestly wouldn’t be sure how to proceed with awkward, stilted conversation or an upset to their decent working dynamic.

He hasn’t seen much of them anyway. He hears that they have been away on missions.

It’s all fine.

Until Hux comes back to his quarters after reviewing his reports to find a package placed in the middle of his bed. There is no sign of forced entry to his rooms, no other sign of anyone being in his space -- just the package, ominous in its simplicity. 

He debates throwing it away instantly, but there is something about the wrapping that has him picking it up, turning it over in his hands.

The box is black and velvety, and it has a simple red silk bow holding it together. Carefully, he sets it back down on the bed.

Hux tugs on one string of it, letting the bow fall apart so that he can slowly remove the lid.

Delicate tissue paper conceals the package’s contents, so he gently folds it to the side. An audible gasp echoes in the quiet of the room when Hux takes in his present.

Inside the box is a beautiful set of lingerie. Bright red, made from the most expensive of silks. It is near-identical to the one Hux had bought for himself and so pleasurably ruined. It is -- exquisite. Beautiful. And so very Knights of Ren.

There is no note, but the message is clear.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [meinesterne](https://meinesterne.tumblr.com/) for the very last minute beta!
> 
> also thank you to [littlesystems](https://littlesystems.tumblr.com/) for discussing alien dicks with me for hours.
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://brawlite.tumblr.com), if you are so inclined.


End file.
